


Shadow Government

by PureBatWings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossover, Don't copy to another site, Kid Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 20:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureBatWings/pseuds/PureBatWings
Summary: Uncle Rudy isn't just a master spymaster as young Mycroft discovers yet another secret about him...





	Shadow Government

“And Paris chose..?”

  
“Stupid, he wanted the most beautiful woman and luuuurve. And started a war,” said Sherlock with all the scathing sarcasm a smart nine-year-old could muster.

  
“Many people do stupid things because of strong emotions, brother mine.”

  
“Morons,” rejoined his sibling and settled down, cuddling against Mycroft, who at almost-sixteen had mostly outgrown childhood pudginess. “What’s the version that our family has?”

  
“The version Dad and Uncle Rudy told me goes like this—the goddesses come to men in our family in a dream when we are about to be men and the gifts they offer are not just power but also a happy marriage from Hera, not just military might but also high intelligence from Athena, and not just a beautiful woman and love from Aphrodite but if we prefer, a beautiful man and an appreciation of beauty or a gift for art, a creativity. And sometimes, if they really favor you, you can choose two goddesses. Dad chose Hera and you see how happy he and Mum are. Uncle Rudy chose Aphrodite.”

  
“And that’s why he likes to dress in ladies’ clothes sometimes?”

  
Mycroft laughed. “Maybe. He certainly has a good sense of color, even if the beauty of feather boas is in the eye of the beholder. And maybe he’s favored by Athena as well given he has a job high up in Her Majesty’s government."

  
“What would you choose?”

  
“Beauty passes away, I’d want power and intelligence.”

  
“Uhn-uhn. I want to be smart and beautiful—cuz pretty people get their way a lot so you don’t need power on your own.”

  
That was one of the last times they talked about something not scientific. After that Sherlock went from a fascination with fairy tales, myths and swashbuckling pirates and began to focus on experiments, the factual, the solid world around him that could be explored, measured and quantified. That fall Mycroft turned sixteen and asked for intelligence and power when he dreamed…

  
And like a fairy godfather, Uncle Rudy showed up and sprung Mycroft from his university digs every weekend and monopolized him for holidays.

 

He sat with Uncle Rudy playing two chess games simultaneously.

  
“Have you never seen something –different—flicker out of the corner of your eye?”

  
“Maybe you should be checked for macular degeneration? Though you are a bit young for it…”

  
“You’re too relentlessly logical for someone your age. Check.”

  
“You exhibit too whimsical a streak for your age and position, uncle.”

  
“I’m not just Minos being the cage keeper of that minotaur of a sister of yours in that island labyrinth.”

  
Touché, I know you’re some high muckety-muck in rarified government circles and I’m your “young apprentice, caught between Scylla and Charybdis.” But you keep bringing up the fantastical—have I seen ghosts, read about ley lines, had altered states of consciousness other than when you got me drunk on whiskey two months ago, what do I think about parallel universes and Schrodinger’s cat? Check, by the way.”

  
“Right, so much for my touching delicately on things. Have you heard about shadow governments?” he asked, moving his piece out of check.

  
Mycroft sat thinking while he roamed his mind palace. “It is a conspiracy theory that other hidden forces control the government, not elected officials. The hidden forces range from the Illuminati to a banking cabal to extra-terrestrials.”

  
Rudy nodded. “So far, so good. We have, in our world, different nations, parallel states, or an alternative universe might be an easier way to think about it.”

  
“Did you eat or drink anything strange when you last saw Sherlock? I warned you he was into studying post hypnotic suggestions…”

  
“Mycroft.” The single word stopped his tirade.

  
Then Rudy spoke three words that changed Mycroft’s life.  
“Magic. It exists.”

 

He looked at his uncle. He seemed quite sane, was sensibly dressed in men’s summer weight clothes, stiletto shoes nowhere in evidence though he doubtless had a stiletto or switchblade somewhere on his person. His eyes seemed clear enough, blue-grey ones very similar to Mycroft’s own. No sign of hallucinogens or actions indicating other drugs in his system.

  
“Prove it.”

  
His uncle nodded. “Come with me.”

  
He followed his uncle in a bemused state as he gathered up two academic gowns and his cane, which as far as Mycroft could tell was pure affectation. Rudy didn’t walk with a limp most of the time except when he wanted to be underestimated.

  
The first leg of their trip was normal enough. The car was called for and Rudy and Mycroft ended up on Charing Cross and Rudy thrust one of the black robes at Mycroft. “Here, put this on,” he said as he threw the other over his suit.

  
“Let’s go,” he ordered and Mycroft could hear the authority in his tones. Here was “The Controller” as his uncle was nicknamed in Whitehall, exerting his authority, even if it was over one balky teenager. He fell into line and followed him down Cecil Court. Just after Watkins Esoteric Center was a barely noticeable pub door and Rudy hustled him through it and out the backdoor into a dead end with a brick wall blocking their way.

  
Rudy took his cane, tapped the bricks in a pattern and Mycroft blinked, despite his efforts to appear unimpressed. For the wall shimmered and peeled back and Rudy dragged him through to-- somewhere else. He jumped when the wall zipped itself closed behind him.

  
“Wizarding Britain. Diagon Alley. Stay close to me and try not to appear too astounded, capiche?”

  
Mycroft nodded absently and followed his uncle closely, despite the unreal things his wide eyes were apparently seeing.


End file.
